Fountain of Fire & Ice
by rainlady
Summary: America takes his son Alaska with him to a Nations-Only G8 meeting at the UN and must not only deal with his linger confusion over the boy's father but the chaos that naturally ensues.
1. Fountain of Fire & Ice (Part 1)

This fic started it's life as a post on the Hetalia Kink_Meme years ago (some mild edits have been made to upload here). I've long meant to put it up here but never got around to it. I'll be uploading chapters slowly because I'm lazy but the story is in a mostly complete state. I say mostly because it was originally intended to have an epilogue but I never manage to get it written and now it probably won't ever be. It does have an ending though it's fairly open ended. Perhaps I'll write a sequel someday. But...probably not lol. The original prompt was America takes Alaska to work at the United Nations with him. I expanded on it from there. I will probably be uploading one chapter every other day or so until they're all up.

This takes place in a universe where there are some State-tans but not every state has one. The ones that are around were representatives of land that were either colonies or territories before they were states (so there is a New York, a Louisiana, and a few others. Exactly how many there are and who they are is not important to the story). They are very rare and Alaska is the only one that is connected directly to America rather then appearing before he took over the land in question. It is something that is considered rare. Also there is no MPreg in this though Alaska considers America and Russia to be his dads and they treat him as a son.

Image of Sasha (I did not draw this a reader did this for me back when the story was originally published) he's a bit older looking in this picture then he is in the story but it's still a good general idea . . He pretty much looks like Russia except for the eyes and the smile. The cowlick at the front which is supposed to be longer then the rest of his hair but doesn't really come across in this picture represents the Aleutian Islands. The black streak in his hair only appeared after the Exxon Valdez oil spill. I never fully settled on what his glasses represent but I'm thinking the Diomede Islands. Sasha is the nickname in Russia for both boys (Alexander) and girls (Alexandria) though it's more commonly used for boys. I admit I chose the name Alexander for him solely because I wanted to use the nickname Sasha.

The Wikipedia Article on the History of Alaska and the Russia/America connection therein: wiki/History_of_Alaska

This story is probably wildly historically inaccurate in places. I did do a lot of research but in order to make the story work I have blended events and at some points may have compressed time to get them to work well for the story. No disrespect is intended to the real world events behind the story but I have made allowances for storytelling purposes.

* * *

Timestamp: Present Day

America pushed open the door to his New York apartment with a heavy sigh. He smiled at the woman sitting at the table playing solitaire, she smiled back and stood to start gathering her things. From the living room he could hear the soft murmurings of the TV, other then that the apartment was quiet.

"Sorry Ella, that took way longer then it should have," he said with a lopsided smile. "I should have known better then to show my face during regular hours, I thought they were never going to let me out of there. Had to remind them three times that I wasn't officially in just getting everything ready for Sasha's visit tomorrow...finally had to pull rank to force them to let me leave."

"No worries, Mr. Jones," she said with a big smile. "I know how it is when you government types try to sneak in and out of work. My own probably won't be home for another couple of hours..."

"Actually I saw him when I was finally on my way out the door and made them unhand him too," he said with a grin as he reached into his pocket to pull out some money, he waited until she had her back turned to put her stuff into her tote bag before he tucked it into the inner pocket of her coat where he knew she kept her house keys. It was a game they played. She was paid by his office, the one that didn't officially exist on paper, but he liked to try and sneak a little extra in there anyway. If he just offered it to her outright she always felt she had to refuse but if he snuck it into her coat she could pretend she didn't know about it until after she left. "He'll probably be waiting for you by the time you get home..."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," she said her face lighting up with a grin, a grin that grew knowing as he handed her her coat. "It's always a pleasure looking after Sasha when he's in town with you. He's been a bit quiet today...think he's probably a bit nervous about tomorrow."

America nodded he knew that feeling well, he was more then a little nervous about the next day himself. He plastered a big smile on his face and reopened the door herding her towards it. "Off with you...go have a good night," he said with a real smile this time. "I don't think we'll need you anymore while were here in the City, we're heading back up north next weekend. But we'll stop by for a visit before we leave."

"I'll plan for it," she said with a grin patting his cheek. "Night Sasha!" she called over her shoulder.

There was a flurry of movement from the other room and then a blonde haired child tore into the room and threw himself at Ella. "Bye Ella!"

She kissed the top of his head, waved once more at America and then exited the apartment pulling the door shut behind her. Sasha stared at the door for a moment before turning his attention to his father. He planted his feet, straightened his glasses, put his hands on his hip and pinned America with as irritated a look as a nine-year old face could muster.

"You said you were only going to be gone for a little while, Dad," he said with a whine. "You've been gone for hours!"

"Sorry, 'bout that," America said with a grin knowing that he'd probably given that exact same look to England more then once when he was younger. "Things always get a little crazy when I show up at the UN Building, 'cause I'm just that awesome," Sasha rolled his eyes but the stubborn expression melted a little. "I got everything ready for tomorrow and I've got something for you..."

"Really!" Sasha's face lit up with excitement at the mere thought of a gift.

"Don't get too excited...I was only gone a couple of hours," America said with a grin. "Hardly long enough to warrant any gifts..." Sasha's face curled in slight annoyance but grew curious as America reached into his jacket and pulled out a small laminated card with a metal clip on the end of it. "I picked up your visitor badge while I was there filling out the paperwork."

Sasha took the badge tentatively. His eyes widening as he ran his finger over the printing on it: Alexander Braginksi-Jones. His name took up two lines and printed in smaller lettering underneath it, US-Alaska.

"My name is really long," he said after a long moment.

"And quiet the mouthful," America teased back, he held out his own badge for Sasha to compare his to, his had his picture on it and was more official looking. "The person who made it was quiet annoyed with me for making it that way..." his smile faltered a little at the way Sasha was still staring at his badge like he'd seen a ghost of some kind. "I'll have to take you over there tomorrow so you can apologize to her." Sasha looked up at him worriedly, nibbling his lower lip, America took instant pity on him. "It's a joke Sash. Trust me they have to squeeze much longer names on these things at least three times a day."

Sasha looked relieved and then glared at him as he realized he was being teased. He glanced down at America's much older badge running his finger over his father's name. The badge was cracked and peeling and looked like it had been put through the washing machine a couple of times. "Yours is really beat up..." he said with a grin.

"Yeah well..." America said with a shrug, he tapped his finger on the picture that accompanied his. "Stuff happens and I didn't want to get a new one. I look awesome in the picture!"

"Daaad..." Sasha said with an annoyed huff.

America grinned and tucked his badge back into his coat pocket. "Go put that somewhere safe," he said gently. "Then come back and tell me what you want for supper. We can can go out if you want to. Turn the TV and lights off on your way past...we're supposed to be going green here or something..."

While he waited for Sasha to return he slipped out of his jacket and hung it in the hall closet, undoing his tie he tossed it onto the nearby counter. He was tugging his shirt out of his pants when Sasha came back in. His son started at him for a long moment, sighed in that world-weary way he'd picked up from England, then he pointed down the hall towards America's bedroom. Then he moved towards the kitchen table and settled himself in his usual spot. America stared at him for a long moment then grinned. He grabbed his tie and headed back towards his bedroom.

He quickly changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt and headed back towards the kitchen. Sasha was still sitting there hand on his head and a dreamy expression on his face. America smiled fondly, ruffling his fine hair as he passed by to settle himself against one of the counters.

"So what did you decide...we heading out?" he asked watching as Sasha futzed with his long dangling curl for a moment before settling his hands back on the table.

"Nah," Sasha said with a shake of his head. "Too many people."

America nodded not surprised, they only rarely went out when they came to New York and then it was usually only because America physically dragged Sasha out the door. It always took Sasha a little while to come to terms with the sheer number of people out there in the world especially when they were in one of the bigger cities like New York. He even had a hard time with his own Anchorage and that only had 300,000 people compared to millions. America made a mental note to start getting him out amongst people a little bit more. Not enough to terrifying him but he didn't want his son to become a recluse. Perhaps start with something smallish but memorable with a historical bent, Savannah Georgia might be a good place to start. Sasha loved history.

"Well then," America said with a smile. "We can order in. What are you in the mood for? Pizza...Chinese...burgers?" he grinned at the last knowing it would earn him another eye roll. The best thing about New York City was you could get just about anything delivered if you knew the right place to call.

"Can you make grilled cheese?" Sasha asked quietly after a long thought full moment.

"Sure," America said blinking in surprise. "If that's what you want, I'll get started."

He stood back up and rummaged around until he had everything he needed glad that he'd thought to buy both bread and cheese on their one and only shopping excursion at the beginning of the week. Generally when he was in New York City he ordered in because usually his hours were pretty tight but he tried to have normal food in the house whenever he had Sasha tagging along which wasn't as often as he liked if he was honest with himself.

As he worked he glanced over at Sasha taking in the slumped position and the nibbling on his finger nails. Sasha was definitely nervous about the next day. He usually only wanted grilled cheese when he was sick or nervous about something. Poor kid had practically had grilled cheese coming out of his ears during the 2008 election. He was incredibly shy and was used to being left to himself by the rest of the country but then Palin came along Alaska was suddenly thrust into the spotlight. They'd all tried to shield Sasha as much as possible the hoopla and everything that came with it was hard for them to do it completely. They'd managed mostly but then the whole thing with Palin's comments about Russia had exploded...and things went swiftly downhill from there. America had thought he'd never be able to talk the boy out from under his bed. Now things were finally starting to calm down again with Alaska once again slipping from the main public consciousness, left to it's own devises with it's strange mix of normal people who had somehow managed to find themselves there, fringe elements, nature lovers, oil people and insane fishermen.

America grinned slightly, he hoped it never changed.

With a flourish he plated Sasha's sandwich, cut diagonally but with the crust on, added some chips and some pickles and glass of chocolate milk and then did the same for himself settling back down into his seat and digging in. They ate in silence for a few minutes before America's nature got the better of him and he started to search around for something to talk about that they hadn't already talked about a thousand times.

"You excited for tomorrow?" he asked with a grin.

"Yeah sure..." Sasha said with a shrug. He took a small bite of his sandwich, chewed it slowly and then put it down and grabbed his milk and took a sip. America waited him out he knew that Sasha had more to say he was just processing how best to say it. "Dad," he finally said softly. "Are there going to be...a lot of people there tomorrow? I saw a documentary on TV about the UN and...there were a lot of people..." he trailed off nervously.

"No," America hurried to reassure him. "It's not going to be a full general assembly or anything like that. It's just an un-official nations only meeting of just the G8."

"Okay...good..." Sasha said sounding relieved.

"You'll even know most of the people there, you've met a lot of them..." America trailed off raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Sasha made a face but answered the unasked pop quiz question all the same. "There's you and Uncle Matt," he started ticking the names off on his fingers, he grinned slyly as he added the next name. "Grandpa England..."

"Oh yeah, he'll be there," America answered with a full grin breaking out over his face. "And make you call him that as often as possible around the others...preferably when I'm around to witness his reaction as well..."

"Francis," Sasha continued after they'd shared a laugh over the expression on England's face at being called Grandpa in front of the others. "He'll be there and Japan...Germany and Italy and...Russia..."

"Yep, you've got them all," America said pushing forward trying not to hear the note in Sasha's voice as he mentioned Russia. "There might be a few others I'm not sure if they've invited anyone else but maybe China and Mexico...not too many more I'm sure we're just going over some stuff that needs to be smoothed out before the next full world meeting."

"'K..." Sasha said absently nibbling at his sandwich. America steeled himself for the question he knew was coming next. The subject he was hoping to avoid until the last minute because he wasn't really sure how to respond to it. Sasha lifted his eyes to meet America's, they were wide and violet just like his other father's on a face that echoed Russia's as well. Though the soft hopeful expression on Sasha's face wasn't one that you often saw on Russia's. "Will...Papa actually be there as well...or will he send someone in his place?"

"He'll be there," America admitted after a long moment. "Unless something has changed since the last time I was in contact with his office."

"Good," Sasha said his face lighting up at the thought. "It's been a few weeks since the last time I saw him."

"Sasha..." America said tentatively not wanting to ruin his son's happiness but knowing that it couldn't be avoided. "You know this is a business meeting right..."

"Yeah," Sasha nodded his face getting a little serious.

"We're all going to be busy with stuff and he might...he might not have a lot of time for...personal stuff..." America hedged around the subject.

Truth was he didn't know how Russia would react to Sasha in public. It was the first time they would be together around someone other then America or Canada. He knew that Russia cared for his son, more then he had ever thought was possible if he was honest with himself, but that was in private. Things with Russia were always different in private. In private they almost managed to be civil with each other, to talk to each other like real people, to even agree once in a while. But in public Russia barely gave him the time of day and scoffed at almost ever suggestion he brought to the table. There was no way to tell it Russia would treat Sasha like his son or just something else that he had shared with America. Something to be ignored...even hated.

"I know," Sasha said, deflating slightly as he picked up the undertone in America's words. "But at least I'll get to see him...say hi...maybe give him the pictures I've drawn for him since I last saw him. I won't bother him though...if he doesn't want me around...I promise."

Sasha nibbled at his sandwich for a few more bites and then dumped the rest uneaten on his plate. America made him finish his pickles and his milk before allowing him to leave the table. He watched Sasha walk slowly out of the kitchen and through the living room heading back towards his bedroom and sighed. He finished his own plate and pulled Sasha's over towards him picking absently at it as his thought traveled far away across the ocean towards the nation who had been such a big part of his life in both good and bad ways. His eyes slipped shut and he found himself mouthing a silent prayer before he even realized it.

Please let Russia behave tomorrow. Because heaven help him if he hurt their son America was going to kill him...truce and slowly being repaired political relationship be damned.

* * *

TBC


	2. Fountain of Fire & Ice (Part 2)

Time Stamp: Present Day

* * *

America left Sasha alone for the rest of the evening.

It went against what he wanted to do, which was spend every available minute he possibly could with his son, because after he took him back up to Alaska it might be another month or longer before he could see him again. But he forced himself to leave Sasha be. Sasha was clearly having heavy thoughts about life in general on top of his nerves about the meeting tomorrow. America sighed he had known this day would come eventually he just would have rather it had not been so soon. Canada had informed him that Sasha had been sort of hinting at wanting to know about America's relationship with Russia but that he kept backing off before actually asking the tough questions. Canada had promised that if Sasha ever did finally ask he would send him immediately in America's direction and let him know that it was coming.

He'd thought long and hard over the year about how to answer the inevitable questions, feverishly hoping that Sasha would ask him before Russia. The only way he'd ever come up with was to tell the truth. It was what he was best at and inevitably the truth would come out anyway so it was better to just get it out of the way as soon as possible. It didn't make it any easier though.

He sighed and cleaned up the mess left over from dinner. He spent the rest of the evening at the kitchen table going over paperwork and contracts and letters from other countries asking for help or telling him they didn't want his help...ever. And plenty of letters that called him all sorts of nasty names from countries he was quite sure didn't actally exist. His people kept trying to get him to agree to let the Secret Service screen this portion of his mail along with the rest but he didn't allow them too. He let them handle any suspicious packages but the rest he dealt with himself. It was his job after all.

The paperwork was something he tried to put off until the evenings when Sasha was asleep or even until Sasha's visits were over all together. But since Sasha wanted to be alone he might as well use this extra free time for something. Though he really just wanted to play video games or watch a movie.

Being a grown up nation sucked.

At 9pm the crick in his neck told him it was time to put his work aside for the evening. He dumped everything back into his briefcase and took it into his bedroom and placed it on the cluttered desk. He took a moment to clear off his chair so that he could check his emails. He ending up deleting the majority of them as junk mail but he did gleefully send one piece of chain mail to everyone in his address book. He was sure to hear about it tomorrow but it was always worth it. Besides he could use a little luck right now. He changed into track pants and a different t-shirt and then padded through the quiet apartment towards Sasha's room.

The door was open just a crack, the light from Sasha's bedside lamp filtering out into the dark hallway. Sasha was sitting on his bed pack propped up against his pillows, head bent over a sketch pad that he was scratching lavishly at. America pushed open he door slowly and cleared his throat gently so as to not startle the boy lost in deep concentration.

"Hey," he said with a soft smile as Sasha glanced up at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sasha said with a nod though it didn't seem like he was quite telling the truth. America let it pass, Sasha would talk to him when he was ready.

"You want some ice cream before bed?" he asked with a grin. It was a little on the late side but he thought they could get away with it just this once.

"Nah," Sasha said with a shake of his head. "I already brushed my teeth."

"Alright then," America said with a shrug it had been worth a try. "I'll come back in another hour for lights out." He stepped back out of the door and was pulling it shut when Sasha's voice reached out to him.

"Dad..." Sasha said in a tentative voice.

"Yeah," he said poking his head back in.

"Can...can I ask you something?" he asked softly.

America turned his head so that his face was blocked by the door so that Sasha couldn't see the pained expression on his face as he took a deep breath before answering. "Sure, you can ask me anything."

Then he pushed open the door and crossed the room towards the bed. Sasha flipped his sketch book closed, stood and placed it carefully on his own desk and climbed back into bed leaving enough room for America to settle easily next to him on top of the covers. America waited letting Sasha start the conversation on his own. After a long minute of fiddling with the bed covers Sasha finally spoke.

"I...know that our relationships, Nation relationships, are different then normal human ones. Stuff like friendship and love..." he said in a rush of words. "They don't mean the same things to us that they do to them..."

"Who told you that?" America asked sharply.

"Francis," Sasha said. America made a mental note to smack France upside the head the next time he saw him if he was going behind his back to do the birds and bees and other stuff conversation with Sasha. "He said nations don't...feel love the way humans do...and..."

"That's not true," America interrupted firmly. "We can love just the same as humans do, we all have the same feeling we're just like them...mostly..."

"I know that we *can* but..." Sasha said with a frown. "But Francis said that love isn't always a factor when nations come together. That it can be for lots of reasons but it's not always...for love. That usually it's not."

He was really going to kill France, dead...totally dead, even if he was just telling the truth.

"No..." America started and then sighed. "He is partially right nations form alliances for a lot of reason and a lot of the time it has nothing to do with loving or caring about each other. It's about...power...and wealth and...what you can give to each other some of the time. Most of the time I suppose," America admitted. Sasha nodded and looked a little sad. "But that's not always the case. Nations do occasionally fall in love with each other and sometimes...against all odds...it actually lasts. Just watch Germany and Italy tomorrow, they try to hide it...well Germany tries to hide even though he's horrible at it and Italy won't let him for very long...but..." he trailed off with a frown. "What they have is...very, very rare."

"Did you love my Papa?" Sasha asked and then instantly ducked his head like he hadn't meant to actually ask the question out loud.

America sighed and slipped his arm around Sasha's shoulder and pulled him closer. "I was wondering when we'd get to this conversation," he said softly.

"I'm sorry," Sasha mumbled. "You don't have to..."

"No...it's alright," America hurried to reassure him. "It involves you and you have the right to know the truth. But the truth is that even I don't know the exact nature of my relationship with your father...it's...complicated. Very complicated..."

"That's what he said," Sasha said with a slight frown.

"You asked him about this?" America choked out in surprise. Trying to imagine what Russia's reaction to this conversation had been.

"I...I didn't want to make you sad," Sasha said softly. "Because you get sad sometimes when you think about when I was younger so...I thought I'd ask him first."

"And he told you that it was complicated?" America asked.

"He didn't say much...you know how he is with details..." Sasha made a face and America had to grin. Russia really wasn't one for talking that was for sure. "He said that you two were good friends and then his people had a Revolution and a Civil War and things changed for him...for the both of you. He told me that his people brought in a new type of government and that you didn't approve of it and didn't want to acknowledge it and that you kept fighting him on it until...well..." he frowned turning inward for a moment and then continued. It was one of the moments that reminded America just how old Sasha actually was. "He told me he forced your hand and made you make a choice and that you chose to stand against him instead of with him and then everything really started to get complicated..."

"That..." America reached up to run his hand through his hair and sighed. "That sounds about right. Though it's a really simplified version of events but that's how it was I guess. Honestly...I don't think that either of us could fully explain everything that's happened to us over the years."

"So...you never love him?" Sasha asked softly.

America blanched at the question and sighed. He couldn't begin to understand how he was supposed to explain his feelings for Russia to their son. He couldn't even explain them to himself the majority of the time. Most of the time he just ignored the whole thing altogether. If there wasn't Sasha in the middle of the situation he would probably just pretend that Russia didn't exist at all. He sighed softly and stared down at his son who was looking at him expectantly.

"There was a time when I...cared a great deal for your father...he was my friend," America said softly. "For a lot of years it seemed like he was my only friend. Or at least the only friend I had that didn't want to be my friend just so they could get something from me. Not that he didn't want something too because he did but...I like to think it was more then that for him like it was for me. But...that was a long time ago, so much history has happened since then..."

"So you hate him now?" Sasha asked sadly.

"No...not..." America let out a pained chuckle and shook his head. "Love and hate are such simple terms for what your father and I have shared...it...I know it seems so easy to brush it away by calling it complicated but that's really the only way I can describe it. Even I don't know what's going on between us half of the time," he admitted. "so it's hard to put it into words."

"If you two weren't friends after the War then how..." Sasha turned to look at him, his eyes wide and a little afraid. "Where did I come from? I know that I was a surprise...that neither of you really wanted me..."

"Don't say that," America said in a horrified voice. He pulled Sasha tighter to him and stared him right in the eyes. "Don't ever say that or think that!"

"But..."

"Whatever has happened between your father and I. Whatever might happen between us in the future...you are not unwanted..." America pressed his cheek against the top of Sasha's head. "You are my son and I love you. I will always love you. You are someone that I wasn't expecting but I thank everything on this earth that someone...something...chose to bless me with you. I know your father feels the same way even if he can't say it out loud. Do you hear me..." his voice cracked slightly as he finished his words. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I love you too, Dad," Sasha said softly, he reached forward and wrapped his arms around America's neck.

America didn't hesitated to wrap his own arms tighter around Sasha and pull him into his lap for a full body hug. Sasha was getting towards the end of the cuddling stage, they both knew it, but if ever there was a moment that called for it it would be this one. He pressed a kiss against Sasha's head and then released him. Sasha slid back over to bed and then on an impulse leaned over and hugged American again a little looser this time and America was quick to hug him back. Then finally Sasha pulled away and crawled back under the covers.

"So..." America said with a lopsided grin as he helped tug the covers back up around Sasha. "Did I do okay...or did I make a complete mess of things?"

"No, you did good," Sasha said with an answering grin. "It...helps...thank you."

America didn't resist the the impulse to lean over and kiss Sasha on the top of his head. "Next time you want to talk about this I promise to be a little better prepared. It might not make any more sense but I'll try, okay?" Sasha nodded and leaned back into his pillows with a big yawn. "So do you still want a story tonight or are you ready for bed?"

"Story if you're not too tired," Sasha said with a sleepy smile.

"Of course I'm not too tired," America said with a shake of his head then he grinned as an idea came to him. "How about we forgo Arthur's adventures in Camelot for the night though."

"But..." Sasha said with a whine. "We were just getting to the good part!"

"I know but how would you like to hear a story about a much braver and more handsome hero?"

"Dad," Sasha huffed with a roll of his eyes. "You're not going to tell me the story about the time you rescued England in the airplane again are you. Because you've told me that story a million times already!"

"That is a most excellent story," America said with a smirk. "But not nearly as much fun to tell when England's not around to get all red in the face about it. Actually I thought I'd tell you the story about the first time I met your father."

Sasha's eyes widened in eager surprise but then his face melted into a frown. "You don't have to do that...if you don't want to..."

"Nah, it's okay," America said ruffling Sasha's hair lightly. "This is actually one of my favorite memories of the two of us. Although anything with an annoyed England is a pretty awesome memory and god was he annoyed. I'm actually surprised no one has told you this story yet...they were all there...England, France, Canada and they love to make fun of me when I was little."

"You were little when you first met Papa?" Sasha squeaked in surprise

"Yeah, smaller then you actually...though technically I suppose I was older..." he frowned as he thought about it. Man their lives were all so complicated. "We were over at England's house."

"Why were you there?"

"Because France was taking Canada to his own house to show him off and when I found out about it...well..." he chuckled softly at the memory. "I had to go too and put up enough of a stink that England finally gave in and agreed to take me with. I don't think he intended to show me off to anyone but well...that's all part of the story I suppose."

"You really couldn't let Canada have anything that was just his own could you?" Sasha asked seriously, though there was amusement in his voice.

"Is that the way he's presenting it?" America said with a scoff and when Sasha nodded America leaned down to whisper in a conspiratorial fashion with him. "Let me tell you something, Kiddo," he said with a grin. "Your Uncle Matt likes to come across as all sweet and innocent and loves to pull that 'woe is me no one ever remembers me' song and dance but he can play as hard and dirty as the rest of us when it suits him. And he's always played it like that. Especially back when we were younger and France was still around."

"Why then?" Sasha asked curiously.

"Because, he knew how envious I was of his relationship with France," America said with a slight smile, Sasha gave him a skeptical look. "Not the France part specifically but the kind of relationship they had. It was very close and cuddly and my relationship with England well...don't get me wrong I've always loved him but he's never been big on the touchy feely stuff especially back then. He's mellowed out a *lot* over the past few decades and he's still not much with the hugging. He was really stern and strict back then loved things to be orderly and disciplined and quiet...gods he had this thing about inside voices..." America laughed and shook his head. "So yeah...I was jealous. France was loving and caring and spent time with Canada besides just giving him lessons and lectures. They actually spent time together that didn't always end in some argument or another," he grinned again. "I was rather hard on England I suppose which didn't help since he came to visit here when he wanted to get away from that sort of thing it got better for a while when I got older and there were more things we could do together and then...well then it got a whole lot worse..."

America's memory drifted away for a long moment spreading back in time quickly and without remorse for the fact that a lot of these memories weren't necessarily happy ones. Sasha sat beside him in silence allowing him to have his time with the memories. He was used to his father drifting off on occasion back to another time and place that he couldn't share. As quickly as they started the non-pertinent memories drifted away and he was back in the present.

"So Canada bragged that he was going to France's house and I had to go to and wouldn't stop harassing England until he gave in and let me go. It's not that I really cared about either of their houses back then I just really wanted to go on the big boat over the big water. There was nothing I'd wanted more since England first told me about it..." he smiled again and just managed to stop himself from drifting off again. "England became a completely different person when he talked about sailing and I really wanted to experience it too. The trip was worth the sheer boredom of when we actually arrived in Europe. England didn't want anyone to see me so I spent a lot of time cooped up in his home and barely got to see anything. His actual home wasn't even all that great. It wasn't the comfortable place he has now, it was this huge monstrosity of stone and wood and creepy paintings and actual suits of armor around every corner. He probably still misses that place..." he grinned and shook his head wondering if he could manage to bring that place up in a conversation just to see what's England's reaction would be. "So it was really boring...until your father showed up...then things finally go interesting."

"Why...how...?" Sasha asked excitement and curiosity bubbling up to the surface.

"That's all part of the story, silly," America said with a wink.

"Well tell it!" Sasha whined impatiently.

"Alright...alright..." America grinned as he made settled himself more comfortably against the pillows wrapping an arm around Sasha as he watched his son try to hide a yawn. "You sure you can stay awake, it's a long story..."

"I'm awake," Sasha insisted, leaning into his father's side his eyes already drifting closed.

America smiled softly. He had a feeling Sasha would be asleep before he even got to Russia's first appearance. He started telling it anyway.

"It all happened on a warm, sunny afternoon. I was trapped inside because England had to finish his correspondence. He was always working and this day was no different. I was in a very hard chair with a book that he had France had put together by hand many, many years earlier..."

"The Arthur book?" Sasha mumbled sleepily gesturing at the book on the bedside table. It had been bound and rebound many times since it was first loosely pasted together by the two during their younger years but it was indeed the same book.

"Yes, that's the one," America said fondly. "I couldn't read very well quiet yet so I was supposed to be looking at the pictures but I had looked at them several times already and was bored so I started my favorite pastime...bothering England while he was working..."

* * *

TBC


	3. Fountain of Fire & Ice (Part 3)

Small Warning: A fairly severe incident of corporal punishment is alluded to very briefly within this part. (it's something that took place several years prior to this chapter happening) Just keep in mind the times that this was taking place, in and that it was a one-off incident and not a regular occurrence.

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Timestamp: 1600's (Probably somewhere near the mid-to late century mark)

* * *

America didn't like England's house.

Not England's country, because what he'd seen of that he rather liked, it was all lush green hills and foggy lowlands. No what he didn't like was the actual building that England called his home, nor had he liked France's similar one across the channel. He missed his own house though it was much smaller and rougher around the edges. It was comfortable, familiar and warm. These were all cold drafts and creepy echoes. There were paintings of funnily dressed, stern looking people who followed your every move with lips twisted in faint disgust. There were curtains that kicked up tons of dust when you tried to hide behind them and made you sneeze for twenty minutes and always ended up with you tucked into bed because you were coming down with something. There were suits of scary armor in shadowy corridors. America was sure he'd seen one move out of the corner of his eye in the library one time and had refused to enter that room again though he wouldn't tell anyone why because he knew they would just laugh at him.

He sighed and leaned back against the straight back chair and tried to concentrate on the pictures in the book on his lap. England had placed him in the uncomfortable chair after America had asked him one too many times when they were going to get out of the house that day. England had been attempting to do some correspondence and had reminded America that things were different here then they were in back in America's home. England had work to do and couldn't spend time entertaining children who did not do what they were told. Not that England spent much more time with America when they were back home. He was a very busy man who always seemed to have something boring to do.

When America grew up he was going to refuse to do any of that boring stuff...he'd leave it for someone else. England always seemed amused when ever America made that announcement but he wouldn't say why.

He sighed again and stared down at the book. He thought he was pretty good at that reading stuff, England always seemed proud at how fast he'd picked it up, but this book was not very easy to read. The hand-printing was tiny and cramped and half of it seemed to be in French which England hadn't allowed France to teach him yet though Canada had taken to teaching him little bits and pieces here and there in exchange for a chance to learn how to use the tiny toy gun England had brought back for America a few visits earlier. What he could read didn't seem to make a lot of sense but there did seem to be a lot about some king, from long ago, who shared England's human name. The pictures were nice though. Full of colorful banners and the suits of shiny armor didn't seem nearly so scary when there was someone wearing them instead of sitting in some corner on their own. And there were horses, lots of horses. America loved horses. England kept promising to take him out to the stables America had gotten a glimpse of when they first arrived but so far that promise had not come true.

He sighed again. He was beginning to think that he'd not see anything besides this musty old house and France's almost carbon copy. He might as well have stayed home. At least there he could run through the woods, the fields and the rivers to his hearts content. The woman who watched him while England was away didn't often keep a very good eye on him so it was easy to slip away. As long as America made sure to finish the lessons that England left for him before the other nation came back he didn't see any harm in it. Sometimes he'd even go to the near by village and talk to the people, they always had such interesting things to say even if some of it was rather negative towards England.

"Stop sighing," England muttered from his desk in irritation. "Read your book."

"I can't," America whined and rubbed at his tired eyes. "The writing is too tiny...it makes my eyes hurt...and some of it's not English."

"Well...then...look at the pictures..." England said still not bothering to turn around to look at his young charge. "I seem to recall that you liked the pictures in that one when I bought it over with me the last time."

"I've looked at them a bunch of times..." America said with a frown, he glanced out the near by window and the sunny day outside. "You said you'd take me to see your stables today."

"I said I would if I got all my correspondence done," England said mildly. "Which isn't going to happen if you keep interrupting me."

"But..."

"America..." England said with an exasperated sigh, finally turning himself around in his chair to pin his ward with an irritated glare. "Do you want me to send you to join Canada and France with their music lesson?"

"Will I get to learn?" America asked hopefully.

"No..." England said with a shake of his head. "You will have to sit there and listen to them...quietly."

America grimaced at the thought of sitting there listening to France murmur lessons in incomprehensible French while Canada plunked away painfully at whatever instrument he was being instructed on. Truthfully his brother was starting to get better which only made the whole thing worse for America. "But why can't I learn too?"

"Because your one and only lesson ended in complete and utter disaster and a destroyed violin which had been handcrafted especially for you and painstakingly brought across the ocean just so you could learn..." a dark shadow crossed England's face at the memory and America shifted uncomfortably in his seat remembering the punishment he'd gotten for that particular incident. It was the only time he'd seen England completely loose it with him like he sometimes did with France. "I seem to remember us both agreeing it was for the best that your lessons did not continue."

"That was a while ago though..." he said tentatively. "Maybe I could try again? I promise I'll take it more seriously this time."

England pinned him with a long, thoughtful stare. "I'll think about it," he said after a moment. "But that won't be until you get back home and can prove to me that you can behave. That includes doing as you're told and not interrupting me when I'm working."

"But I'm bored," America said putting on as big a sad-eyed expression as he could muster. It was the look that normally got him exactly what he wanted.

"Stop that," England said firmly but the corners of his mouth were quirking like he was trying not to smile. "Just a little while longer and then I promise I will take you out to the stables...maybe even let your ride..."

"Really?" America squeaked in excitement.

"If you keep quiet until I'm finished..." England said in a tone that brooked no argument.

America sighed wearily. He'd known that was coming. For the next 15 minutes he tried, he really did, but the chair was uncomfortable and his eyes hurt when he tried to read the writing and he was bored with the pictures he'd seen several times now. England could have at least given him a new book. His eyes drifted around the room as he tried very hard not to fidget enough to draw England's attention from the correspondence he was working on. Even the room was boring. There was only one thing decorating the walls a framed map and honestly America really would like to look at it closer but it was hanging behind England's desk and he doubted that would go over very well. Maybe next time he had to sit and wait he could ask for it before he was banished to boredom. He sighed, cringing as England momentarily stopped his writing he scrunched up his eyes and waited, seconds ticked by and England must have realized that he wasn't really intending to interrupt him because he went back to his writing without saying anything. America let his eyes trail around the room again the found nothing interesting besides the windows both of which had window seats attached to him. Excitement hit him as he realized that while he couldn't go outside at least he could still look at it. He stood from his chair, carefully setting the book onto it and headed towards the window.

"Where are you going?" England asked without turning around.

"I was just going to go over by the window and look out," America said with a hopeful tone. "I wasn't going to touch anything or make any noise...just look..."

"Alright," England said after a moment he finally turned to glance at America. "But don't press against the glass, I don't want you to smudge it...or break it...they're not cheap..."

The last part was said with a warning very clear. America nodded his head and only rolled his eyes when England turned back to his work. He wasn't going to break the glass, he knew better then that. His own house back home didn't have glass windows yet just shutters and thick drapes to keep the drafts out. Some of the new churches had that pretty colored glass in them and some of the new businesses and homes were being put up with them but they still weren't very common place. England had been hinting that he would soon be adding on to America's own home and when he did glass windows would be added at that time. America still hadn't decided what he thought about his beloved home being completely redone but in the end it didn't matter. It wasn't his choice to make.

He hurried over towards the window and carefully settled himself down on the window seat. It wasn't much more comfortable then the chair especially since he couldn't lean forward against the glass, but at least it offered him a bit more to see of this new world. The room they were in looked out over the front lawn of England's home. Everything was neat and orderly as far as the eye could see. Everything was neatly trimmed and well manicured. Even the dirt of the carriage yard in front of the main entrance and the wide, tree lined avenue that lead from it down to the main road that was far out of view looked like it had been raked within an inch of its life. There was no movement of any kind, no animals and not even any people, nothing interesting to see but stone walls and beyond that miles and miles he practically itched to explore and run around in. He stifled a sigh already bored with his new place and knowing if he tried to move somewhere else England would not be happy. It's not like the other window would lend to a much better view anyway.

The cushion of the window seat was long enough for him to stretch out on and if he propped his head on his hand he could still see out. So he settled himself down and let out a quiet sigh. He heard England turn in his chair and then turn back around probably assuming that America would fall asleep. America was determined not to because if he did England would use that as an excuse not to take him out to the stables. So instead he let his mind wander off into the distance.

He let himself about the only good thing on this entire trip, besides spending a lot of time with England even if he was busy and boring most of the time, the trip over. The big boat had been every bit as exciting as he'd anticipated and very much worth the many stern lectures England had forced him to sit through about proper etiquette on board before they'd left. Of course once he'd gotten on board he'd promptly forgotten almost everything he'd been told. For his part England got immediately distracted and strangely relaxed once they'd gotten out on the open sea and either just didn't notice the mayhem that America was getting up to or just didn't care very much. He'd even managed to drag a reluctant Canada along for some adventures a few times and even though he denied it he knew his brother had fun he knew it. The only down spot was the bad storm about halfway through the trip but that had cleared up and the fun had resumed. To his surprise and delight England really did seem to know as much about sailing as he always said he did and really did become a completely different person on the open sea.

He really looked forward to the trip back home even though it probably wouldn't be as much fun since England wouldn't even be getting off the ship with him when he returned as he needed to get back to his country as soon as possible. France wouldn't even be accompanying them at all.

He frowned and tried not to think about that.

Sleep tugged at his eyeballs and he admitted that maybe he didn't get as much sleep as he should have the night before. It was just that the painting in the room he shared with Canada. England said came from a place he was most interested in called India; it was of a woman with three faces and way too many arms. England had explained the significance behind the painting when he'd placed them in the room when they'd arrived the week before and America had nodded and pretended that he'd understood all the big words England was tossing around like popping corn. It wasn't until that night when he couldn't sleep due to the excitement of the day, though Canada had been out like a light the minute his head touched his pillow, when the painting had become illuminated by the moonlight filtering in strangely through the glass window pane that he'd started to get worried.

That worry quickly turned to fear. Fear that the painting would come to life and come for his soul. Isn't that what the church implied would happen if you looked too long on pagan things? Truthfully he wasn't exactly sure what pagan things were or what pagan even meant but it seemed very important when the preacher's would talk about it in their sermons for hours. If it was important to his people it was supposed to be important to himself wasn't it? The next morning he'd tried to share his fears with his brother but Canada seemed uninterested or uncaring and just teased him about his silly fears like he so often did. So America kept his fear of the painting to himself not even telling England for fear of getting a lecture about not listening to him when he explained it or worse being laughed at for it.

So sleep had been hard in coming since they'd arrived at England's house, he stayed awake to keep watch on the painting to make sure it wouldn't come to life. Not only because he was afraid of it but if he wasn't awake then who would warn Canada, who would protect him? America was sure he was the slightly older of the two so it was his job as the older brother to protect Canada, even if his brother would just roll his eyes at him when he made that sort of statement.

People seemed to do that an awful lot around him whenever he got an idea and shared it.

The sunlight drifting through the window made the window seat warm. Not hot just comfortable. He felt sleep tug deeper at him and he was about to let it claim him when he noticed a dark far off on in the distance of the lane leading away from the property. He watched it for a moment and realized it was coming closer, it was still too far away to make out properly but there was only one thing that it could be….a carriage. He sat up and leaned as close as he could to the window without pressing against it. He watched it get closer and closer until he could make out the horses and the driver. He bounced a little in his seat.

It wasn't that he thought that England's visitor would be anyone interesting, or even that he would get to meet them since he hadn't so far; it was just that England would have to go and meet with them. That meant freedom for America because England would never allow him to stay in his office with all his private and important papers and ink wells. They'd been down that road before. Most likely America would be sent to his room but that was fine he had other books there and his own paper and practice quill…and the small bottle of ink he'd managed to nick from among France's belongings when the older nation had his back turned. He'd been carefully practicing his letters without anyone knowing about them. He wanted to surprise England with how good he was at it.

He continued to watch the carriage for a few more minutes until it was almost to the circular drive then he turned to tell England about it. "Hey, England!" he said brightly ignoring the curse that slipped out of England's mouth as his pen slashed against his paper in surprise. "There's a carriage coming up the drive!

"America," England said in exasperation, crumpling the paper and getting a new blank sheet from the pile. "If you don't stop interrupting me I'm going to lock you in your room for the rest of the day. And I mean locked in, no interaction with anyone, no food, no stables, no nothing."

"I'm not trying to bother you," America said with a huff. "There's really a carriage out there. A nice one…like the one we rode in in London."

England turned with another sigh. He stood and walked over to the window but it was clear he was only humoring America and was prepared to yell at him when nothing turned out to be there. America couldn't stop himself from grinning at the shocked look that crossed England's face when he saw that there was actually a carriage out there. England leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he watched the groomsman jump down from his seat next to the driver to go over and open the door. America copied him, leaning closer to the window to get a closer view as well. A head appeared from within the carriage. America only got the briefest glimpse of shaggy strange colored hair and a long cream colored scarf. The very moment the man in the carriage eyes started turning up towards the house America found himself being yanked backwards off the window seat and out of the stranger's line of sight.

"What the hell is he doing here," England muttered. America gasped at England's language as he was pulled backwards towards the door, then through it and stalked down the hallway.

"Ouch, you're hurting me!" America whined. England grimaced and released his hold on America's arm but gestured for America to follow him and keep up. America practically had to run to obey the order. "Who was that?" he asked curiously. "Who's here?"

"No questions," England snapped in irritation.

That only caused America's curiosity to rise. As did the fact that they were heading towards the music room where Canada and France were. This wasn't the first guest they'd had since they'd arrived here but England had never had France greet them with him. In fact he usually ordered France away or didn't tell him about the arrivals at all.

They reached the music room and England threw open the doors with so much force that they crashed into the walls on either sides make a loud bang and sending several paintings crashing to the floor. The suddenness of the action caused the two figures huddled over the keys of a harpsichord to just in surprise the smaller of the two almost sliding completely off the bench before being stopped by the older.

"Ah, Angleterre," France drawled once he regained his composure and made sure Canada was settled firmly back on the bench. "I know you have no ear for good music but was such an entrance really necessary?"

"We have a guest," England snapped as he stalked across the room and stopped by the bench, America following closely in his wake.

"And…still…" France said with a smirk. "You haven't needed me to hold your hand through a meeting prior to this..."

"It's Russia."

The change in the room's atmosphere at the mention of that name was immediate. France jumped to his feet, his face paling slightly. "Are you sure?"

"I saw him myself out the window," England said crossing his hands across his chest. "His carriage arrived a few minutes ago."

There was a soft clearing of a voice near the doors. England's butler stood there observing the destroyed entrance for a brief moment before crossing over the group near the harpsichord with a card held gingerly between his two fingers. "There is a Mr. Braginski here to see you Mr. Kirkland," he said in his soft firm voice. "I tried to tell him you weren't seeing any visitors today but he's rather insistent that he see you. He says you won't turn him away," his lips creased in distaste.

England exchanged a look with France and then took the card; he didn't bother to glance down at it before addressing the butler. "I will meet with him, Peters," England said in a tight voice. "Have him wait in the entrance until we're ready to meet with him in the library."

"Very well, Sir," Peters said and then exited just as quickly and quietly as he'd entered.

"Why is here?" France said reaching out to snatch the card from glancing down at it with distaste. "What could he possibly want that was worth traveling all that way to get here?"

"I think we both know why he's here," England said with a dark frown glancing first at Canada and then at America. "This is all your fault."

"My fault," France said with a laugh. "How is that?"

"You were the one that insisted that you bring Canada over here to parade him around to all your friends and neighbors," England said with a glare. "Of course the news went round to everyone like a wildfire…including to him."

"Does he even speak with anyone else?" France said his brow creasing in confusion.

"Of course he does," England snapped with a roll of his eyes. "Don't let that whole backwards act of his fool you he's as wily and nasty as they come that one. I don't trust him."

"You're the one who has the strong trading ties with him…" France pointed out mildly.

"Of course I do, his country has a lot to offer me," England said in a bored tone. "And he's willing to pay for what I have to offer his. Doesn't mean I have to like him…"

"So you think he's here to see them?" France asked worriedly, his hand straying to rest on Canada's shoulder.

"Of course he is," England said with a worried frown of his own. "Everyone is curious about them and he probably has more interest in some. They haven't been explored fully yet and its quiet possible some of their land comes close enough to his to concern him…or at least…intrigue him."

"I don't think we should allow him to see them," France said after a long moment of thought, he pulled Canada closer to his side.

"I agree," England said with a nod his eyes swung around to America who was watching him curiously his ears soaking up everything he'd been hearing and storing it away to mull over later. "You two will go up to your room and you will stay there until either I or France come and get you."

"But…" America whined in irritation even though this wasn't a really unexpected development.

"America…" England said the warning tone in his voice plain and clear. "This is not a discussion. You will go up to your room and you will stay there. That's an order."

"Yes England," America said with a glower, he stuck his lip out a little more as France knelt down beside him and ruffled his hair.

"Tell you what," France said in a playful tone, over his shoulder England rolled his eyes and Canada's face scrunched up in irritation. "You do what ol' Artie tells you just this once and I'll take you riding as soon as our guest leaves."

"Really?" America asked brightly.

"Yes," France said with a smile, his eyes sliding over towards Canada. "I'll take both of you."

America felt a little of the joy rush out of him with that added sentence. It wasn't that he didn't want his brother to go riding, Canada likes horses too, it was just…that he so rarely got to spend anytime with France alone, England made sure of that. The idea that he might was almost enough to make him want to do what he was told instead of coming up with a way to see what was going on in the library. He nodded his head quickly when he realized that everyone was waiting for his answer.

"Alright," he said with a smile.

England's eyes narrowed suspiciously and America very carefully steeled his face so that nothing would show but hope and excitement at the thought of going riding. Canada was eying him in much the same manner, like he didn't quiet believe that America had given in so easily. France was oblivious to what was going on around him; he reached over and ruffled American's hair again then let his hands drift down to tweak his cheek.

"That's my boy," he said with a grin and then stood to face a glaring England with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

"My boy," England practically growled at him.

"Always so territorial, Artie," France said with fake exasperation. "Not everything in life has to be a land dispute you know."

"Come on," England said with a roll of his eyes. "We best not keep him waiting…he might decide to come up and find us."

They walked over towards the door, France left first with a waggle of his fingers, England paused long enough to pin America with a very meaningful look. "Up to your room now," he said simply and then left as well.

America's face twisted in annoyance and he crossed his hands across his chest and huffed. Canada rolled his eyes reached out and grabbed his brother's arm and started pulling them towards the door. "Stop sulking," he said. "Come on I'll teach you some French…"

The offer would be tempting at any other time but right now America only had one goal in mind, to find out what was happening in the library. Thankfully that wouldn't be has hard as he thought it would be thanks to England's choice of location for the meeting. "No," America said with a shake of his head. "I want to know what's going on in the library."

"Well you can't, England said you couldn't," Canada pointed out evenly.

"England tells me lots of stuff," America answered back firmly. "I don't always listen."

"You'll get in trouble if he catches you," Canada said. "I bet he'll be so angry he'll send you home."

The warning had some truth too it as America mulled it over in his head but then he figured out a way to put it right back out of his head. "He won't…" he said with a grin. "He won't trust me to behave without him there to keep an eye on me and he's too busy to go back himself right now."

Canada frowned; America knew he saw the truth in that. "You're still going to get in trouble," Canada said after a moment. "He might even punish you."

"So," America said with a shrug. "It's not like that hasn't happened before."

"It might be worse then when you broke the violin," Canada said his eyes turned worried. "You didn't get out of bed for two days after that…"

America turned his head not wanting Canada to see the expression on his face as the memory slipped past him. It had been the only time England had ever punished him in that fashion, oh he'd been swatted on many occasions but usually it had been only a couple of quick sharp pats. But on that occasion England had actually gone out and made a switch and hadn't hesitated to use it nor did he really seem to regret it after it was over. Although his hands had been gentle and soothing when he'd applied the healing salve on afterward and put America to bed. Canada had been more bothered by the incident then America had been. In the end he knew he'd done a very bad thing and had deserved to be punished for it and he had tried to learn from it but sometimes…well sometimes something was just worth getting punished for and he thought this was definitely one of those times. Canada's face turned downwards in annoyance as he realized that America wasn't going to let that stop him from finding out what the grownups were talking about in the library.

"Why do you care so much?" he asked with a sigh.

"Because…you saw the two of them," America said softly. "They were nervous…almost scared. When was the last time you saw either one of them scared about something?"

"Well…never…" Canada admitted reluctantly.

"Whoever this Russia guy is they don't trust him and I want to find out why," America said with determination.

"If they don't trust him that's all the more reason for us to do what they told us to," Canada said firmly. "They don't want him to meet us and I don't want to meet him either…he didn't sound very nice."

"Fine then," America said with a huff. "You don't have to you can go up to the room and wait for them to come and get you but I'm going to the library."

"You're going to get caught," Canada said with a shake of his head. "There's no way you're just going to be able to linger outside the door without someone noticing you."

"I won't have to linger outside the door," America said smugly.

"Then how are you going to hear what's going on inside?" Canada asked.

"Remember how France told us his house had secret escape tunnels built in?" America asked

"Yeah we looked for them but never found them," Canada answered. "What does that have to do with anything?

"Well, this house has them too and I found one of them. It leads from England's room down into the servant tunnels that run underneath the house and outside…probably out into the woods outback. Tunnels from other rooms join with it and one of them joins from the library," he bounced on the heels of his feet excitedly as he presented the information he'd been keeping to himself until just the right moment.

"I've never seen any extra doors in the library," Canada said with wide eyes. "I thought we looked in them all."

"We did and it's not a door it's just a hole in the wall. It's hidden behind that large ugly tapestry, you know that red and blue one," America said. "We can go from England's room to there and then we can sneak back up to our room when they're finished no one will even know we're there! Come on Canada, it'll be an adventure!" America's eyes were wide and pleading he didn't want to do this alone; he wanted Canada to come with him.

"No," Canada said firmly. "I'm not going with you and you shouldn't either. We'll get caught and get in trouble…"

"Fine, do whatever you want to," America said with a disgruntled huff. "But if you tattle on me…" he said his eyes narrowing in distrust. "I'll do something to that bear of yours when we get home."

"You will not," Canada said in a slightly worried tone. "You love him as much as I do…"

"I do but I will I'll…I don't know what I'll do but if you get me in trouble on purpose I'll do it!" America said and he knew he meant it even though he didn't really want to do anything to the bear.

"Fine," Canada said in an angry voice, his arms crossing his chest. "Go on then.

"Fine, I will!" America huffed whirled on his foot and stalked off towards the door.

He paused in the entrance and waited. He didn't say anything he just stood there in silence hoping that Canada would change his mind if he just waited long enough. It didn't take long. There was a long soft sigh behind him and then footsteps in his direction. He grinned and hurried off down the hall towards the library with Canada trailing reluctantly behind.

End Part

-Notes—

-England first established contact with Russia in 1553 when an English ship landed in Arkhangelsk, Russia. Trading ties were established between the two countries in 1555.

-England's established trading relationship with India began with the British East India Trading Company in 1612. So while India probably wouldn't have been considered a colony at the point in time this story takes place England was definitely already sniffing around it with great interest.


	4. Fountain of Fire & Ice (Part 4)

Timestamp: 1600's

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America could hear the murmur of England and France's voices as they crawled quietly through the tunnel towards the library. He stopped moving when he reached the tapestry and carefully pushed the heavy fabric out of the way and peered through the crack of light that formed. He could make out the two near the two reading chairs set up to the right of where they were though they faced the entrance to the room on the opposite end. He realized quickly that watching the events that unfolded were going to be hard. The tapestry was right in their line of sight he they made too much movement with it one of them was bound to notice.

Canada was panting when he finally reached where America was, he blinked owlishly in the light, the only light they'd had since they'd entered the tunnel system. Canada glared at him as he brushed the dirt off his clothing and America lifted his hand to quickly shush any comment he might have made. Canada huffed but said nothing. They waited in silence listening to the soft rise and fall of their guardian's voices and their own breathing.

They didn't have to wait long, the door to the library was opened and Peters strolled into their line of sight followed quickly by the stranger America had seen exiting the carriage. The stopped almost right in front of them though further across the room while Peters moved forward to further announce his presence. As the stranger stood his eyes flicked around the room seeming to take in ever inch of it with intensity that America hadn't seen before. They swung around towards the tapestry and at the very last second, fearing he might be able to see them as they could see him he let the fabric drop back into place bathing both himself and Canada back into darkness. He shook his head though he knew his brother couldn't see him. They would have to listen instead of watch the proceedings. There was too much of a risk of being seen.

"You're arrival is rather unexpected, Russia," England's voice laced with irritation cut across the room from the other side of the tapestry. "It is customary here that one gives a warning before stopping by for a visit."

"I am sorry if I've put you to any trouble," Russia said in a thickly accented voice that to America's ears didn't sound sorry at all. "I was in the area and thought I should stop by and pay my respects."

"Respects?" England asked in a voice laden with more irritation. "If you wish to speak to me about our trade agreement you need only to have arranged a meeting when I am in London. There is no need for you travel all the way out here."

"My plan was to have an audience with you in London," Russia continued after a moment of silence. "However I missed you before you headed out here and I admit my curiosity got the best of me."

"Curiosity?" England asked in a tight voice.

"I had heard, as has everyone on the continent, that France had one of his new world colonies with him at his home in Paris, there were rumors that you might have yours with you as well though no one has seen him…" there was a leading tone to his voice but if England heard it he gave away nothing. "I thought perhaps I might pay my respects to the both of them since I did not get a chance while they were in Paris…"

"I am very…honored…" England's voice choked slightly on the word. "That you came all this distance to see them however I must regret to inform you that they are not receiving any visitors. They are both too young for that sort of thing."

"Then I must have misunderstood about Paris?" Russia murmured in an amused voice. "I heard there were several rather lavish parties in his colonies honor…"

"That was in Pairs," England bit off tightly. "We are in my home now and I have decided that they need to concentrate on their studies and not…parties…and other niceties…"

"I see," Russia said softly. "That is too bad; I guess I shall have to find someone else to give the gifts I brought all this way with me for them…"

America's eyes widened at the mention of gifts and he inched closer to pull at the tapestry to see if he could see what they were. He felt Canada's hand on the back of his shirt trying to pull him back and stop him. Of course Canada wouldn't care about these gifts. He had just received a bunch of them from France's friends and France was always giving him one trinket or another but to America they were a big deal. England wasn't as free with the gifts and usually if America did receive something it was actually just a tool to better himself or teach him something. He didn't get toys or fun things very often.

"I am sure you will find them a good home," England said firmly.

America felt the annoyance rush through him at England's words. England was making a decision about something that wasn't his. Russia hadn't brought those gifts for England, he and brought them for America…Canada too…what right did England have to decide if they did or didn't receive them/ Afraid that Russia might just give in and leave America rushed forward before he could full think the decision through. Canada's hand on his shirt let go as he burst through the tapestry surprising two of the three occupants of the room as he stumbled and slid forward towards them.

"No…wait!" he cried as he tripped forward and lost his balance, his arms flailed for a moment as he waited for the fall.

A hand, strong and solid clasped onto his shoulder with a firm grip stopping his forward momentum and settling him easily back onto his feet. America glanced upwards and had to crane his head back a lot farther then he was anticipating. Russia was tall, taller then England, taller then anyone he'd ever seen before, as tall as America hoped to one day become. His hair was a strange white-blonde color, cut in a shaggy style that France would undoubtedly turn up his nose at. His eyes were an even stranger color. They were purple. They were also warm and twinkling like they knew a good secret that they wanted to share with only America. America felt caught by them, held tight in their gaze. It was a strange, but not all together uncomfortable feeling.

A throat cleared and America froze. He swallowed hard and turned his head slowly in the direction of the other two nations still sitting in their chairs. France had a hand half-covering his face and it was clear he was trying desperately not to laugh but England…England was furious and not hiding that fact in the slightest. America took a step away from Russia, who let his hand drop away, and quickly lowered his head away from the hard glare that England had him pinned under. There was no doubt that he was in trouble, very big trouble.

"I thought," England said in a very soft, dangerous voice. "I told you that you were to go upstairs and stay there."

"I…" America started searching desperately for some excuse as to how he found himself in the tunnels and deliberately disobeying a direct order from his guardian.

"If you're about to try and convince me that you got lost and somehow found yourself behind that tapestry through no fault of your own…" England's voice was icy, America shivered slightly as it brushed against him. "I suggest you stop yourself from going down that path, right now."

"Yes, Sir," America mumbled softly.

"Where is your brother?" England asked the tension in his voice lessening as America did not argue with him. It became dangerous again when America did not answer his question. "America…I asked you a question."

America raised his head but still did not answer. He could not lie to England not when he was already in so much trouble but he did not want to give his brother away if he didn't have to. England's gaze hardened but there was a touch of something hidden deep in his eyes that America was surprised to see. He thought it might have been pride. It flickered out as quickly as it appeared when America still didn't answer him.

"Is he back behind the tapestry?" England asked again, America lowered his head again still refusing to answer. England sighed in exasperation. "America…what have I said about answering questions when they're asked of you."

"I…I can't…" America said softly. He flinched as England jerked to his feet but held his ground and continued to say nothing.

"Canada," France interjected placing a hand briefly on England's arm to stop anything he might have done. "Come out please."

America dropped his head and closed his eyes hopping that Canada would stay where he was but knowing he wouldn't. Sure enough there was a rustle of fabric and then Canada hurried across the room to join them. America was surprised when his brother reached out to grasp his hand. He glanced up his brother was regarding him with wide, surprised eyes. America felt the familiar urge to protect him surge through him and he turned his attention back to England who was now glowering at Canada. Canada didn't deserve to be punished for this.

"It was my fault, not his!" he said sharply, England's eyes jerked back around to him. "Sneaking down here was my idea…he tried to stop me and he didn't want to come himself."

"I didn't," Canada agreed and America breathed a soft sigh of relief. "But I could have not come and I did…it's not all his fault."

"Canada…" America hissed. "Stop it…you're going to get in trouble…"

"Oh you're both in trouble," England ground out though clenched teeth but some of the more dangerous anger seemed to have evaporated. "Very big trouble. I told you what I wanted you to do and you both deliberately disobeyed me."

"It was my idea, though," America insisted. "Don't punish him because of my idea."

"I don't doubt that this was your idea, America," England said seriously. "But it was his choice to go along with it and so you will both be punished for your actions."

"England…" France said with slight warning in his tone. "Perhaps we should discuss what will happen after we've seen to our guest."

England huffed slightly and then turned to look at Russia who had been watching the whole process with passive amusement. "Yes, of course," he said tightly.

"Russia," France said with forced politeness. "This is my colony, Canada. And the more boisterous of the two is America."

"He's mine," England interjected possessively.

France didn't bother to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Boys…this is Russia, he lives in a very vast and cold land to the far east of here. Colder even then your own land, Canada."

Canada's eyes widened at that proclamation before he remembered his manners. "It's very nice to meet you Mr. Russia," he said bowing slightly to the taller nation.

"Yeah…nice to meet you," America said as he moved to bow himself but was stopped when England cleared his throat behind him.

"It's very nice to meet the both of you," Russia answered back with a smile.

"Now that the introductions are over with…I'm sure you won't mind Russia, if we send them off so that we can continue to discuss our business in private." Russia didn't even get a chance to say anything before England continued. "You two, up to your rooms," he said not even bothering to look back at them. "Make sure you actually make it up there this time."

"Yes, Sir," the both said at the same time.

Sullenly America sent once more glance at the strange nation standing so close and then turns to walk across the room as Canada tugs at his hands. They got only a short distance away before Russia spoke up again.

"At the risk of overstepping the boundaries once again," he said in that strange accented voice of his. "Perhaps you would permit me to present them with their gifts before they go?"

There was a long length of silence that descended over the room with the question. America forced himself to remain still, not to fidget, not to look back at England and not to feel too hopeful. It would be rude for England to refuse the request and everyone in the room knew it but he was the British Empire and they had deliberately disobeyed his order so if he wanted a reason to refuse he had more then enough of one.

"Very well, yes," England finally said through gritted teeth.

America whirled, forcing down the excitement as he hurried back across the short distance and took the offered box from Russia who also held one out to Canada.

"Thank you," Canada whispered softly, and then he elbowed America in the side.

"Ah…thank you," America said with a wince, Canada's elbow was really pointy and he was very good at thrusting it in just the right spot.

"You're both very welcome," Russia said with that soft unreadable smile.

America clasped the package to his chest and glanced over at England. He didn't want to presume that they would also be able to open them right in that moment but he hoped that they might be able to. He suspected whatever was inside would be taken from them as part of the punishment and might not even ever be given back but he desperately wanted to know what was inside.

"Well…hurry up and open them," England ground out in exasperation. "Then you will go directly up to your room."

"Thank you!" America answered quickly before even Canada could beat him to it.

He stared down at the package for a moment and then with a grin tore into the plain brown paper. His brother did the same though in a much neater fashion. America dumped the paper onto the floor between his feet making a mental note to remember to pick it up as he left. Then he popped open the box and looked inside. He could just see the top of a rounded head, painted gray and black with pointed ears. He pulled the object out and stared at it. It was rounded all over thicker at the bottom then at the top. Along with the ears there was a snout that extended from the figure and a tail that was carved out of the base that wrapped around the front. Though it was a little strangely shaped there was no mistaking what it was, a wolf.

America glanced over towards his brother, curious to see what he'd gotten. It was a similar shaped doll, only Canada's was a pure snowy white, just like his bear. He glanced upwards at the smiling Nation and felt a strange sort of thrill shoot through him at the thought that this man had studied them even though he'd never met them. True there were wolves everywhere but it seemed…right somehow. He smiled lopsidedly and turned his attention back to the doll in his hand.

He ran his fingers along the sides, smooth and perfect except a small crack that circled the middle. He fingered it with a frown and then moved his hands against it. There was a soft noise and then the two pieces moved apart. He stared at it in wide eyed horror. He'd just gotten it and he'd already broken it. Then he noticed that Canada's had the same sort of crack around the middle. His eyes widened again in realization and he let them slide again towards Russia.

"It opens?" he asked quietly wanting to make sure before he actually did break it.

"Da," Russia answered with a soft grin.

America's brow crinkled, he didn't know that word, it must be from Russia's own language but he assumed that when paired with that smile it meant yes, so he twisted the doll a little further and sure enough the top popped off. Inside was a slightly smaller wolf. This one had the ears and nose just painted on. Halfway down it two had a telltale crack around the middle. He shifted slightly opening the second wolf, inside was another and inside that another until he reached the smallest of the eight figures nested inside a very tiny little wolf cub as intricately painted as all the other though so small he could barely make out the details. He stared at them all in wonder for a long moment before glancing over at Canada who was wearing the same sort of look showing his own to France who had come over to get a closer look at it. He glanced at England who still hadn't moved from his spot near the chairs though he was looking at the dolls in America's hands with what constituted open curiosity for him. America decided he'd wait until they were in private before asking his guardian if he wanted a closer look.

"Thank you, Mr. Russia," Canada said softly.

America glanced back at Russia who was beaming down at him with a childlike innocence that seemed strangely out of place on a face with eyes that seemed that old. "I am glad you both like them, I worked for several months on them trying to get them just right."

"Thank you," America said beaming back up at him. "I've never gotten anything so nice before!"

"Then you're very welcome indeed," Russia answered pride and something else etching across his face.

"Alright," England said in a tight voice. "You've had your fun now back up to your room.

America turned to look at his guardian wondering why he was being glowered at so darkly. He glanced away fumbling with the dolls to put them back together and then clutching them to his chest afraid that England might change his mind and take them away from him. Canada came over towards him excitedly holding his bear out for America to take a closer look at it. America did the same they murmured at each other as they switched to get a better look.

"Now," England snapped in an exasperated tone.

Both twins jumped having momentarily forgotten they weren't alone so swept up in their twin speak and togetherness. They jerked their heads towards Russia and France who were watching them both with open amusement and England who very much looked like he wanted to strangle them both. America sensed that they were at the end of the rope where England was concerned so he weaved his arm through Canada's and waved towards Russia.

"G'bye!" he said and then pulled Canada off towards the door.

"Goodbye!" Canada cried as they scurried off.

"Goodbye," Russia called after them, his laughter brushing against them as the door shut behind them.

They hurried towards the stairs and America couldn't help but wonder as he ran if he would ever get to see Russia again. He found himself hoping he would.

* * *

TBC

-Notes-

-I'm playing extremely fast and loose with history in this part. Matryoshka dolls (or Russian nesting dolls) didn't appear until 1890. I chose to use them because they're something so recognizable Russian that they fit with the image in my head for this part so we'll just pretend that they're something he played with the keep himself occupied when he was alone and the weather was so cold and didn't pass them onto the official creator until almost two hundred years later for whatever reason. (Please forgive me for my deliberate bending of time and space *coughs*) They're also usually human figures either male or female but I had a cat one when I was a child and thought the animal theme would be better suited for the colonies.


	5. Fountain of Fire & Ice (Part 5)

The last of this round of flashbacks. The next will see us back to modern times for a little bit.

* * *

1600's

* * *

America waited.

He was sitting on his bed with his back pressed up against the head board holding his new toy in his arms staring out towards the window and the lengthening shadows the waning light coming in from it was producing on the floor.

It had been hours since they'd been ordered to leave the library. And it had been at least one since France had come up and spoken with Canada, murmuring to him in soft French, rubbing his back as he dissolved into tears. America had watched the two of them a guilty feeling snaking its way through him. He'd gotten his brother in trouble. It wasn't the first time and it honestly probably wouldn't be the last but it didn't make it any less a bad thing on his part.

France hadn't made things any easier when he'd crossed over to his side of the bed and pressed a kiss against America's head. He'd actually thanked him for trying to shield Canada from getting into trouble even though he'd been the one to get him into the mess to begin with. He'd tried to brush the thanks away as quickly as possible. He knew he didn't deserve it. France had left soon after telling him that England would be up to talk to him shortly.

He'd wanted to know what Canada had gotten as a punishment, though he already had a sneaking suspicion from the way his brother was acting, but Canada wouldn't move himself from the ball he'd curled up into after France had left. He wouldn't even look at or speak to America. That just made America feel a hundred times worse. His brother had said he wasn't mad at him after they'd gotten up to the room and the excitement of their new toys had worn off and they were left in dread of what was to come. But Canada's insistence only made it worse. His brother should be mad at him, he deserved it.

He sighed and resisted the urge to crawl under the covers on his own side of the bed and sleep. He needed to stay awake because he needed to face England like a man when he came in. He would accept any punishment without argument or whining or crying. He'd gone down to the library knowing very well he was going against something that England had ordered, he deserved whatever punishment he got. He just hoped he could convince both England and France to give him the worst of it.

The door creaked slightly as it was pushed open and England appeared in the door frame. America took a deep breath and forced himself to meet England's eyes as he entered the room and crossed over to the bed. The older Nation settled himself on America's side of the bed, taking a moment to pull the covers up around the now sleeping Canada before turning his attention back to his own colony. America nibbled on his bottom lip and ran his fingers against the base of the full doll as he waited for his guardian to speak.

"We will be staying here until the end of next week," England began in a soft tone. "Then we'll be going back to London and from there you and Canada will be heading back home."

America wanted to argue, that that was weeks earlier then they had talked about but instead he simply nodded his head. He had expected that this would be their punishment from the way that Canada had reacted to whatever France had said to him. It made a certain sort of sense he supposed even though he had brushed the idea of it off earlier.

"There will be no arguments and there will be no complaining," England continued. "This is my decision on the matter and it is final."

"Yes, Sir," America murmured softly.

"France and I will not be going back with you," England said after eyeing America for a long moment as if still expecting an argument. "I will have business to attend to in London and France will be returning to his home in Paris."

America nodded he suspected that this was the real punishment, being separated from their guardians earlier then expected. It would probably be a long time before they saw them again. He glanced over at Canada and thought about how much Canada loved France and had been looking forward to spending time with him on this trip.

"Does Canada really have to come back with me?" he asked quietly cringing slightly as England eyed him sternly. "I'm not…arguing with my own punishment I just…it was my idea he…shouldn't be punished as badly…"

"No," England said firmly. "Your brother will be returning with you. It was a mistake to bring you both here. I knew this from the start but I let France and your own wishes sway me from what I knew was the right decision."

"But…" America said softly arguing despite knowing he was treading a very fine line. "I've learned so much…"

"It is too soon for you to be over here," England said with a shake of his head. "There are too many…influences…that would wish to sway you from the path I've chosen for you they would seek to set you against me."

"I would never turn against you!" America said firmly.

"I know that," England said with a slight quirk of his lips. "But they would still try it, it's in their nature to want to try and hurt me, I have all the power and they are scrambling for anything they can get. I will not allow you to be used that way, you are too young for that."

"I'm not a child!" America said with a huff.

"Yes you are," England said with a slight smile. "Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, America, it's not as much fun as you might think."

America made a face he didn't like it when England looked on him like he was still the baby he'd been when they'd first found each other. He wasn't a baby, he wasn't a little kid he was older then most of the people in England's armies and he was really strong. He might still look like a child but he wasn't one, he wasn't!

"I just want to help you," America said stubbornly. "And I could if you'd let me! I can fight…I'm strong!"

"You could fight, Nations younger then you have fought wars all on their own," England agreed seriously with a nod. "But you do not need to and I do not wish for you to grow up the way I was forced to."

America's eyes widened and he held his breath sensing that England was actually going to tell him something about his childhood. He and Canada had tried hard in the past to get England to tell them about it after France had let it slip that they had known each other when they were both much younger but England never seemed to want to talk about it always changed the subject or ignored their questions completely.

"It was a much different time back then, more rough and violent…lawless…" England said with a slight frown. "I was almost completely on my own, I had my own brothers but we were…not as close as you and Canada are and I barely ever saw my sister. So I was alone for much of my youth with only my special friends and my loosely gathered people for company. Then I wasn't alone someone came for me from a far distant land that was far more advanced and more cultured then my own. He claimed he wanted to take care of me…to teach me…"

"Like you do for me…?" America murmured.

"No…nothing like that," England ground out as his hand clenched at the bed covers. He gazed out at some middle distance trapped in his memories. "He lied. Oh he taught me a great many things but that was not his main goal he just wanted to own me…to bend me to his will and eventually he succeeded but not before I put up as much of a fight as I could to make things difficult for him."

"What happened to him?" America asked quietly.

"Eventually he left and then he vanished completely," England said with the slightest smirk lifting the corner of his lips. "Others tried to come and take his place, even my own family, but none of them succeeded. And now I am the one with all the power and they are nothing to me."

America frowned there was something off in England's statement that he couldn't quiet reason out what it was or maybe he just didn't really want to. He wasn't really given much time as England held out his hand and gestured towards the wolf doll in America's hand. He hesitated for a long moment and then handed it over; he wondered how long it would be before he got it back. He watched as England opened them all putting them back together and then lining them up on the table. England stared at them for a long moment and America found himself wondering what was going through his guardian's mind.

"So much work…" England murmured. Then he turned and looked back at America who knew he was wearing a hopeful expression. "I won't be taking these from you," he said with a slight smile. "I should but it is your first gift from another country and it would be rude of me to refuse it for you."

"You were going to…" America couldn't help but point out.

"That was before it was actually given to you," England said sending an irritated look in America's direction. "To refuse something once it has been presented to you is incredibly rude and not something you should do."

"He wouldn't know though," America said before he could stop himself. "He's not here anymore."

"But I would know," England said cocking his head and staring at the line of dolls. "Being sent home early is punishment enough."

"You're not…" America said his eyes widening. "You're not going to use the switch on me again?"

"No," England said with a frown. "I did consider it, quite seriously, but…I have decided that it's not a necessary course of action for this transgression. Disobey a direct order like this again however…" he said his face turning deadly serious. "And two days will seem like a very short amount of time to spend in bed recovering."

"Yes, Sir," America said shivering slightly; he didn't doubt England's words for a second.

"And you'll behave on the journey back home," England said sternly. "No running around and causing havoc like you did on the trip over here."

"Yes, Sir," America said with a sigh and knew he would have to obey no matter how boring it would make the return trip.

"Since we'll have a few days here before we leave," England continued his face softening slightly, his head turned to look once again at the line of dolls. "I will still take you down to the stables and for that ride as I promised."

"Really?" America's eyes widened in shock and his voice rose in pitch until he remembered that Canada was asleep and he lowered it quickly. "Really?" he repeated again.

"Yes, really?" England said with a smile. "I shouldn't but I have been promising it since we got here and not paying much attention to you so I will follow through on that promise."

"Thank you!" America said bouncing against the mattress a little.

"You're welcome," England said with a very small smile that America knew for him was equivalent to the largest grin America could put out.

He reached out and ruffled America's hair softly which only made America beam all that much more. He quickly removed his hand and reached out for the dolls, carefully reopening them and starting to put them back together. He stared at each one for a long considering moment before capping them with the larger one. America watched his careful movements for a while and then asked the question that was foremost on his mind.

"Why don't you trust that Russia guy?" he asked. "Aren't you trading partners?"

England turned to regard him quietly for a moment and then nodded his head. "We are," he said setting the completed doll back on the table. "We are partners but that does not mean I trust him…or that he trusts me."

"But he seems so nice…" America said with a frown.

"He did seem very nice but don't let that façade fool you," England said firmly. "He has had a very rough childhood, maybe even rougher then my own. He is as hard and cold as his home because he has to be in order to survive. Now he has decided that it's time to make his presence known on the continent to make himself a force to be reckoned with. I don't doubt that he will…he is very smart. Smart enough to know that playing nice is going to win him more friends then just coming out swinging."

"So if he's a threat…" America began only to be quickly interrupted.

"He is not a threat," England said sternly. "Nothing is a threat to me."

"If he's going to cause trouble…" America tried again; England didn't look much happier with that statement but didn't interrupt this time. "Then why become partners with him at all?"

"Because he has stuff to offer that I want," England said with a shrug. "And I have stuff that he wants and that he's willing to pay for. We don't need to trust each other for the arrangement to work for us."

"But…that doesn't make any sense," America said with a frown. "How can you work with someone closely if you don't get along with them…or trust them?"

"It's just the way the world works," England said. "You need to remember that liking someone has nothing to do with business. You must always think about yourself, and your people, first. If that means making an alliance with someone that you don't necessarily like all that much then you still do it and if it means turning your back on someone you do like because it's for the best you must do that also."

"But…" America said in pure confusion. "Why does it have to be that?"

"It just does," England said. "Some day you will understand."

America shook his head he didn't think that he would ever understand that. He didn't know that he wanted to.

"So how do I know who I should trust and who I shouldn't?" America asked still in completely confusion.

"That's simple," England said with a raised eyebrow. "I will tell you."

"So I shouldn't trust Russia?" America asked with a slight frown as he thought of the kind faced Nation with his twinkling eyes.

"No," England said as if it was the only possible answer. "You should not trust him."

"Okay," America said in a small voice his eyes trailing over towards the dolls.

"Promise me," England said firmly reaching out to gently turn America's face to look at him.

"But…" America said his forehead crinkling. France said promises and vows were very serious things and should not be taken lightly. He wasn't being given time to think about this and he was still so confused.

"America…" England snapped lightly. "Promise you will never trust him over me."

"Of course I would never do that!" America said in horror. "I trust you more then anyone!"

"Then make the promise," England said.

"I promise I'll never trust Russia," America echoed the words seriously and he meant every word. "Especially over you."

"Good," England said with a nod, letting go of America's chin.

America frowned slightly still not fully understanding what had just happened and why England was so serious about this. Did he really think that America would want to be with someone other then him? He wouldn't no matter how many dolls and toys he received from them. England was his guardian and he loved him and believed whatever he said even if it didn't make a lot of sense to him at the moment.

Thankfully America's stomach had other plans then letting his mind mull over these thoughts and questions for too long. It made its presence known with a long, loud grumble. America grimaced and ducked his head clapping his hand over his belly and hoping it wouldn't make a repeat performance. Bed without supper was a punishment he was used to, though usually it happened after he'd had a couple of meals and some foraging from the apple trees and berry bushes in the forest back home. He hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast and though he'd eaten plenty at the time that was hours and hours ago…it seemed like a lifetime.

"I should send you to bed without supper," England said seriously though his eyes were twinkling. "I've been far too lenient as far as punishments go as it is. But…it has been a long time since breakfast so there will be a light supper in an hour and then you're going to come directly back up here and to bed."

"Yes, Sir," America said trying not to grin at the older Nation. "Thank you, Sir."

England's gaze turned to the still sleeping Canada. He fussed with the blankets again and then turned back to America. "Let your brother sleep a little while longer, we'll wake him for supper," America nodded and then shifted uncomfortably under England's suddenly contemplative stare. "You tried to protect your brother today," he said after another moment. "You've tried multiple times to shield him from any sort of punishment even though you didn't need to. He's not done the same for you in the past yet you still did it."

"He's my brother," America said softly. "I have to look out for him, it's my job."

"I'm…" England started and faltered slightly as if what he was about to say was not something that came easily to him. "I'm proud of you, America."

America straightened in his seat staring up at England with wide, surprised eyes. He didn't think England had ever said those words to him before, England didn't praise anyone lightly. Pride and happiness slid through him, warming him all over. He fidgeted slightly he knew what he wanted to do but he didn't think England would allow it. Hesitantly he crawled the short distance towards his guardian and threw his arms around England's neck. England sat stock still for a very long moment until America was almost sure that he'd done the wrong thing and was pulling away and then England finally wrapped his arms around him and returned the hug. America sagged into the embrace and sighed happily. This was even rarer then the praise and all the sweeter. Finally England let go and half pushed him away.

"Now," he said, coughing slightly to clear his throat and standing quickly. "Sit here and think about what we've talked about until I come back to get you for supper."

"Yes, Sir," America said not able to hold in the grin.

He finally allowed it to shine after England left the room. He bounced on the mattress for a moment before remembering Canada sleeping next to him and stopped. He turned his head and looked at the strange wolf doll. He reached for it, pulling it into his lap he stared at it for a long moment. Biting his bottom lip he ran his fingers over it and then with great determination he slid off the bed and hurried over to where his trunk was sitting on the floor across the room. He set the doll down as he had to use two hands to push open the heavy lid of the trunk. Then he pushed the items inside around until he'd created a soft, cushioned area and carefully set the doll into that spot. He stared at it longingly, his hands itching to pull it back out to open it and play with it. Instead he nodded his head slightly as he saw England do often and pushed the clothing over the top of it and snapped the lid of the trunk shut again.

England didn't trust Russia. England didn't want him to have anything to do with Russia. England was his guardian. He had to do what England asked of him above all else. So that meant that he would have nothing to do with Russia unless he was given the okay by England to do so.

He couldn't imagine a day when that would ever change.

* * *

TBC


End file.
